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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899810">Mondays</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandwidthlimit/pseuds/bandwidthlimit'>bandwidthlimit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Devil Wears Prada (2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:54:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandwidthlimit/pseuds/bandwidthlimit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy comforts Cassidy through her first divorce, wishing Miranda were still around to help her through it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mondays</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Reposted from LJ circa 2010? Maybe earlier. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Are Mondays always this awful?" Cassidy ran her fingers through her hair, and Andy swelled with sympathy for her. "I mean, they always seem to suck, but I don't remember them ever being </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I know, sweetie. It hasn't been an easy week for any of us."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Understatement of the century," Caroline muttered from her corner of the couch, and Andy gave her a strained smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The girls, now in their thirties, were her sturdy rock of sanity. Without them, she wasn't sure what she would have done, but she knew from her relief at their presence that whatever it would have been would not have been pretty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"A little sensitivity, Caroline. Cassidy's having a bad day."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Maybe she should have listened to me when I told her that marrying that idiot was a bad idea."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Andy couldn't disagree with that. When Cassidy had married Kevin, Andy had bit her tongue, hoping against hope that she would have a long, happy marriage. But, in a disheartening symmetry with her mother, Cassidy's first marriage had ended within a year - passionate, sure, but spent and through by six months, and dead and gone by eight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was irony, she supposed, that it ended on a Monday, irony that this Monday was the two year anniversary of Miranda's passing, irony that had brought them all together in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And yet, Mondays hadn't always been so bad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"M'randa... what... oh." Andy fluttered open her eyes, only to shut them again when she felt Miranda's mouth move over her hip. "It's... it's Monday, I have to go to... to woooork..." Her hands found their way into Miranda's hair, despite her words, holding on for all she was worth.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Call in," came the muffled response from under the covers, and Andy de-tangled her hands from Miranda long enough to push the blanket off them both, taking in Miranda's tousled hair and the glint in her eye.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"But I have a story due," Andy took advantage of the moment of reprieve to catch her breath to protest.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"That's what's so wonderful about journalism, dear," Miranda purred, lowering her head and Andy's pajamas, "you can work from home."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I miss him," Cassidy whispered into Andy's shoulder as the ending credits to </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Bridges of Madison County</span>
  </em>
  <span> played. She sniffed wetly, and Andy stifled her own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I know you do, sweetie. It won't always be this bad. There'll be someone new, someone better."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't know that."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I do." Andy smiled, trying in vain to steer this conversation away from where she knew it was going. "You're a beautiful, intelligent, strong woman, Cassidy, and men would have to be blind not to see that."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You're just like your mother, darling.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"But he was it, And. I did my best and I blew it."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You'll always have another chance, a better shot with someone new. Don't get yourself down."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"There wasn't anyone new for you."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later, she would try to blame the tears on the movie, but Andy just smiled, and sniffed, and nodded, because that was all she could do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"What's wrong with you? What are you doing here? I distinctly remember telling you to never come back."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Andy stood her ground, hands on her hips and firmly in the way of Miranda's only method of escape, unless she lunged for the window, which Andy thought unlikely. Tomorrow was the beginning of the work week, after all. Miranda couldn't run a magazine from the hospital.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"We need to talk."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"How did you get in? I took your..." Miranda's voice trailed off weakly, and Andy fought the urge to go to her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Miranda, I know what I said was stupid and hurtful and completely out of line," it wasn't lost on her that Miranda was not disagreeing, or trying to interrupt to make up for her own part in the argument, "But I'm sorry. And I miss you. I hate knowing that you're here, and feeling like I should be here, and... I just... I miss you."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She felt like the floor would open up and pull her down, save her from whatever wrath Miranda was going to throw her way. Andy couldn't bring herself to fathom it, after everything they'd both said, how could this make any difference? How could -</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Come here."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Andy blinked. "What?"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Get in here, Andrea. It's cold. Don't make me ask you twice."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To her credit, she only hesitated a second before stripping herself of shoes, jacket, and jeans, and crawling into the large bed with Miranda. It was hardly an orthodox forgiveness, but, really, Andy wondered, when had they ever done anything the 'right' way?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I miss you," Andy whispered later, curled up in bed around a large pillow she wished still smelled the way it used to. "I just..." she sighed, burying her face in it anyway, if only to hide her tears from the empty room. "I miss you."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning, the girls woke her with coffee and bacon, and sad smiles. It was Caroline who wrapped her arms around Andy's middle and gave her the hug she needed, whispering in her ear, "We miss her, too."</span>
</p>
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